


Jaded

by alianora



Category: Bulletproof Monk (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-03
Updated: 2005-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianora/pseuds/alianora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He still calls her Bad Girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jaded

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dreamiflame

 

 

He still calls me Bad Girl most of the time, when we cross paths.

We might be tied together with a secret for the next sixty years, and we might have both fulfilled the monk's prophecy, but that doesn't mean we spend every waking moment together.

Why would we?

The monks who see us on the street, either separately or together, always double take when they see us. I guess we aren't exactly who they expected to take the scroll next. Of course, Kar likes to stop by every temple he sees, just to drink tea and annoy the monks.

But you think, after five years, they would have gotten used to it.

I guess, after getting the scroll, we expected to live easy. Sure, we would be mostly on the run, as there were still people who were looking for it, plus, we aren't really aging, so eventually someone will notice something, but we really didn't think it through, I guess.

What it comes down to is that life doesn't always work out how you think it will.

We spent the first six months joined at the hip. It was disgusting, I bet, but we couldn't help it. Gaining the scroll had sent jolts of electricity through us, and sharing the scroll, if you'll forgive the lame euphemism, was pretty close to straight ecstasy.

But after that, we ran out of money. I had only taken some money and some of my clothes. Most of my dad's money was tied up in trust funds, so I couldn't exactly get to it, and Kar didn't have anything left except for the clothes on his back. So, he went back to picking pockets, and I went on to street fighting. It was a good way to make money, and I always healed. It hurt like hell some days, but it was fun, working through the new techniques that the monk had taught Kar.

We had to move around a lot more after that, as people noticed when gravity didn't work on me like it should. I should have paid more attention, but I was hungry and wasn't really thinking. Kar thought it was funny whenever I came back swearing and started throwing our stuff in boxes again. More than once, we just left everything behind and ran.

I'm sure the monk would probably disapprove.

But for a while, it was fun. Kar got really pissed one day when some guy tried to pick me up right in front of him (well, technically, he had his tongue down my throat, but whatever), and that lead to our first big fight. The verbal kind, anyway. So we left there, I think it was San Francisco, and headed on out the next day.

After that, we drifted. I got offered a job in a bookstore in Boston, and Kar got picked up by the cops. I went down there every time visitors were allowed in, mainly to smirk while he glared. I love getting to him.

While he was trying to talk his way out of jail, I was catching up on my philosophy. Seemed like a good way to pass the time.

We talked about it some, when I went to visit him, and we decided it might be best if we split up. Especially after I nearly fell off a ladder in the bookstore, and caught myself in mid air.

After all, that would split anyone looking into two places at once. And we had heard rumors of some archeologist who was trying to track down the scroll to put it in a museum. Strangely, neither of us was all that interested in hanging on a wall as an exhibit. Or in being flailed, which we figured might be the other answer.

So, after he broke out of jail, he went his way, and I went mine.

I spent a good amount of time wandering the country, and then decided it had been a long time since I had seen Paris. My dad had taken me once, when I was little, right after Mom died, and all I really remember is the lights from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

It was almost a year since then when we ran into each other in London. He stuck out like a sore thumb. You would think he would have some idea how to blend in, but he still was loud, smirking, and obnoxious. He might have grown up with some cultural experience, but it sure doesn't show most of the time.

I had missed him, smirks and all. I think he missed me too, as he stole my necklace again, and I had to spend the next two weeks playing a really elaborate game of tag.

Which I guess is where this really started. Before, we were giddy with the idea of being tied together, of being important, of being chosen. Now, we had settled down, if you can ever call Kar settled, and we had grown up a lot.

So, we will spend about two weeks together, and then I'll wake up one morning, and he (and my necklace, dammit Kar!) will be gone. And I will have to track him. Sometimes this takes awhile, but it depends on how hard he is trying to hide. Sometimes I'll find him, just to steal back the necklace and disappear. Tag, you're it.

Sometimes I will stop by when we aren't playing, and that's nice too. But that's pretty rare.

It's a little dysfunctional, and I can't help but think that somewhere the monk is sitting back and laughing his ass off, but it works for us.

Neither one of us is exactly the most social person alive; so, having each other underfoot all the time doesn't work. Don't get me wrong; I'm closer to him than I have ever been to anyone else, except my mother. But we have both been independent for too long, and we have to have our space.

For most couples, that would probably involve a night out with the boys every week and a private office. For us, it involves cities, oceans, the occasional airplane and the world's largest game of chase.

Hey, we have stay amused somehow for the next sixty years.

END

 


End file.
